Stairs

I hate them. 

It's not that they are so physically draining.  I actually liked running stairs back in the day.  Now, they are the bane of my existence. 

After my most recent relapse, going up a few stairs was my Everest.  In rehab, my goal was to take on the stairs in the gym.  Getting up them wasn't as hard as going down.  I don't know what it is.  Maybe it's the different muscle groups needed to go down a set of stairs, or maybe it's because I can see myself plummeting down them.  It's a scary thought and I think it with every step I took.

I'm better with stairs now.  I can even run up them.  I just haven't figured out how to run down them.  Seeing people hopping down the stairs makes me wish I could do that with ease too.  I mentally can't picture how to use my feet and legs to get down the stairs quickly.  It could be a fear thing since I hold on tightly to the rail as I descend.

Going up stairs...piece of cake. 

Going down stairs...scary.

I still always opt for stairs rather than the elevator.  Practice makes perfect.  I don't like taking mobility for granted anymore either.  When you're stuck in a wheelchair, the only thing you want to do is walk and tackle a flight of stairs. I don't think it's asking too much.